Hunt For the Mountain King
by Scion Project
Summary: The Mountain King, a traitorous Imperial Army commander, terrorizes the world Ty'an. The Space Wolves now come, lead by Tyra Russ, daughter of Leman Russ, now comes to bring order. With the traitors are now cornered Tyra and her company finds themselves a race against time as the Mountain King makes his final decree.
1. Chapter 1

****Long ago,****

****before the fires of the Great Betrayal forever transformed the Imperium,****

****there was an age undreamed of.****

****The Age of the Unremembered Empire.****

****To live in this Age was to not know gods,****

****To not know half-thought fables****

****It was to know reason****

****To live within the realm of wisdom****

****But it was the time right before the fall****

****Shadows of catastrophe loom****

****And great beasts shall stalk the stars****

****and under their feet****

****Man shall be in his Darkest Age****

****To live in this age was to walk under the fleets of the Great Crusade****

****To see what could have been…****

****Much of Imperial history has been lost.****

****Tales of valor innumerable burned before they could be read,****

****and the knowledge of the Primarchs' Scions was consigned to legend.****

****Theirs the history of an Imperium, forgotten even as it died…****

**The Mother Of Sharks**

Cold winds, heavy with snow, whistled through the icy canyons of Gomorrah, a mountainous region of Ty'an. The winds surged and ebbed, like a river in the sky, each gust perceptible by the change in pitch of the shrieking mountains.

Ty'an was a small world, with a population of no more than a billion, though it was rapidly growing. A recent discovery of promethium amongst other raw materials for the Great Crusade had turned the backward feral world into a bustling center of Industrial might, for any planet not owned by the mechanicum. Given Primaris attention by the Imperium, Ty'an was outfitted with its own Imperial Army regiment in the event of invasion by the Xenos raiders infesting the Sector. The Imperial Army had eliminated most of them, though the occasional raid was still encountered and crushed with great force. But now, the threat to the resources of Ty'an was an internal one.

They called themselves the Bronze Men, a group of 'freedom fighters' who had assaulted several Imperial Army outposts and seized caches of weapons and several vehicles. Their attempt to seize the city of Hal'tom ended in failure, though that did little to stop them. For years, they attacked Imperial forces, recruiting from the growing body of angry mill workers and disgruntled miners. Things came to a head when rumors of their involvement in an attempt on the Imperial Governor's life warranted the uprooting of the Bronze Men.

As in all wars, things did not proceed as planned. Rather than the swift decisive victory that had been predicted, the world was plunged into violent, bloody war. Mercenary guilds took advantage in the anarchy, raiding Imperial Armories, making off with many weapons and vehicles of war, including a fearsome Baneblade. The final straw for Ty'an's governor came when an Imperial officer, Captain Rycon, defected to the rebels' side. He donned a crown and called himself the Mountain King, and in the shadowy and harsh mountains ringing the valley of Gommorrah, he held court. The governor requested urgent aid, invoking his Primaris status.

The sixth Legion answered. The 10th Great Company of the Space Wolves led by Tyra Russ was sent to destroy of the Bronze Men, and slay their self-appointed king. Many gene-sons of Leman Russ thought the assignment beneath them, though it didn't prevent them from executing their duty any less diligently. Wolf Guard Erwin Lang knew this well. His role as advisor to the young Wolf Lord made him key in this campaign.

He understood the plight they faced, especially the young Blood Claws, ever eager for battle. They would have to wait. The Insurrectionists were hidden within the mountains, difficult to find, even with Orbital Pic Servitor assistance. Roaring laughter sounded behind him as he turned to look over his fellow Wolf Guard.

"-that was then when I took the bastard's head!" Elfradr said, laughing as he finished his story, beer dripping down his long white bread. "I swear by the Wolf King!" he slapped his gauntleted hand on his armored chest as he said it, causing a large clang that accented his drunken sincerity.

"You, alone, fought and killed an Eldar swordsman, after disarming him?" Snidil asked, his young face showing his incredulity. "I can believe kill, the Eldar are as sturdy as a fishing spear, but disarmed!?"

"Aye, when I fought under the Wolf King's son, Asger," Elfradr said defensively, "Svavarr, you remember! You were a part of his assault on the filthy xenos!"

"All I remember is you bragging about a kill... and Asger's pestering!" his Wolf Guard cackled.

"You'd expect a womb-born son of Leman to show some amount of subtlety, he's like a fucking wet nurse," Emund grumbled, his short side burns covered in white snow.

"You shouldn't speak poorly of Lord Asger, he is strong, wise, and he's yet to lose a battle," Erwin reprimanded.

"He's fought only a handful, he's yet to prove himself," Emund argued, "He's always breathing down your neck, like he wants to fuck you." Emund laughed before realizing none of his brothers had joined him, they all were quiet. Emund blinked. "What?"

Warm breath touched the back of his neck, and he heard a feminine voice say, "What's this your feeling now?" Emund knew the voice, knew the tone and the smell of the kennels. He was stunned to silence, and the person behind him continued, "This is me breathing on your neck, and no, this doesn't mean I'm fucking you." There was a pause and a snicker, "Although should we lay it would be me doing the fucking."

Emund finally found his spine and turned, hoping he wouldn't see what he knew he would: his Wolf Lord and commander, Tyra Russ. Her green eyes shone with amusement at his plight, her fanged grin framed by long curly red hair. "Lord, forgive me, I had not-"

"Let me tell you a story," she interrupted, making her way through the assembled Astartes around the campfire – a rare luxury – to sit amongst her Wolf Guard. "When the Wolf King first brought me to the Fang, he showed me all of his weapons. Told me their names, their origins." She spoke as a Rune Priest reciting a Great Epic. "He showed me the Spear of Russ in his hand. I remember his words as if I'd heard them yesterday 'I hate this weapon,' he said, 'I hate it. But that does not mean it is not a good weapon. I prefer the axe or the sword, not a spear. But that does not mean the spear is a bad weapon. It is quick, it is efficient, it will slay your foes.'" She looked into the eyes of each Space Wolf, to see if they'd understood her words. "Remember this: When you are under a Wolf Lord, you may dislike him. You may even hate him. But know that he is a Wolf Lord because he is the best, and he is deserving of his title."

Tyra turned to Emund. "My brother has shown himself to be a great commander. He's made certain to use all of your packs in the best way. He's always paid attention to the needs of every pack. Has my brother ever done your pack wrong?"

Emund shook his head, ashamed. "No, Lord, never. Even when I was a Blood Claw. He always treated my pack with dignity and respect."

Tyra smiled, baring her long fangs. "Good, anyone else wish to say something?" Silence greeted her. "Well, I didn't come here to chastise you. We move soon, the location of the rebel leader has been revealed."

"Finally!" Elfradr exclaimed, "any longer and I'd be scraping rust out of all sorts of places!"

"Where are they?" asked Emund.

Tyra's smile twisted into something feral. She liked enthusiasm. "Two kilometers north. They are on Mount Yarkon, one of the taller peaks. The base is established on one of the plateaus. It will not be a steep climb. Keep in mind, though, we shall be fighting their best. Ordinary man they may be, they can still kill us. Be careful and alert."

The ride was nothing if not typical. They exited their campsite made there way to the mountain ranges were the bronze men 'where'. This wasn't the first time they got a lead, Imperial Intelligence had only guesses to give. Tyra did not expect this expedition to bear any fruit but it was worth a try.

As she sat in her saddle, Belysning following Erwin, the point man of the pack, she begun to think back to her earlier years. She remembered the Fang, in all of it's glory. How marching up those steps felt familiar, yet somehow alien at the same time. She remembered meeting her father, Leman, and the feast that followed.

She couldn't remember what she spoke to him about, but she did remember the emotion. It was happy, joyful even. She never truly felt like she belonged within her tiny village on the edge of a great lord of the north. Even within the confines of her hut with her mother, she felt as if she was not meant to be there. Being in the Hall Of the Wolf King, she felt at home.

She remembered her brothers too. Asger, the oldest and heir, was speaking of his exploits of being a great hunter in the eastern seas. How he wrestled great beats to the ground, ripping their throats out with his bare hands. He even told of the band of warriors he led against a horrid wizard, how he drove his spear through the man's heart, ending his reign of terror.

Balder, the youngest, told fantastic tales of his ventures in the southern 'warmer' lands. How he expertly navigated ships, and battled the terrible storms which would've sunk sunk so many other ships. He spoke of the great sea serpents that infested the sea, and how he slew one with nothing more than a knife and his wits.

Thinking back onto it, it was the last Tyra ever saw of Leman, in person that is. After that he set off for Terra to speak before the Emperor and his council of nobles. Leman made Asger Wolf Regent in his absence. Tyra was sent off to begin her training to learn how to an Astartes.

"Tyra." Erwin's voice was soft as he tapped her shoulder, they were entering enemy territory, the Thunder Wolf pack slowly making its way towards the Bronze Men's position. "Wake up, we're almost there."

" Shit." Was all she felt like saying as she rubbed her face with a gauntleted hand. She hadn't meant to sleep, but somehow, the winds whipping through these crags sung her a lullaby she couldn't resist.

"Are you worried, lord?" Erwin asked, uncertainty plain in his tone.

Tyra chuckled. "Nay, I miss my father is all."

Erwin nodded. "You'll see him soon."

"I-" Her response was cut short as she heard something. Something not of the wild. She held her hand up, and the pack stopped. She listened closer. Repetitive motion. Servos. She sniffed the air. The faint smell of engine exhaust filled the air. "Vehicle." She looked to Aska, at the point of the pack. "Aska, find it! Go! Pack follow."

The pack followed closely behind Aska, their best tracker. Without a rider, she was free to move as fast and as freely as she could. Tyra sniffed the air, the smell of burning promethium was getting stronger. She could easily hear the engine now, the repetitive up-and-down motion of pistons. Cresting the slope, she found herself looking down a snow covered valley. Unlike many that they'd come across before, it wasn't empty. Tyra gave a low whistle, and Aska came to a halt still growing. She'd always been the more aggressive of Tyra's two wolves.

Below her was a sizeable force. At the front was the source of the noise, an Imperial Sentinel walker. Oddly enough, the open-topped vehicle contained a crew of two: one controlling the walker, the other scanning for targets, lasgun in hand. Behind the walker marched about twoscore infantry, armed with lasguns, though a few had heavier weapons; she spotted several flamers and a few 'hotshot' lasguns. Their armor was standard Imperial Army flak armor painted bronze.

"We should bypass them," Erwin suggested, "They have the open field advantage. And if they see us, they may be able to warn the others."

Tyra nodded. "But if we don't eliminate them, we may find ourselves dealing with reinforcements. Makes our escape complicated."

Erwin was silent, lost in thought. "Your choice, Lord."

She spent several silent moments examining them. "They may be more useful alive," she began, "Tracking them could tell us more than that sorry excuse for a guess Imperial Army Intelligence gave us."

The entire time the pack trailed the patrol, Tyra studied them. They moved in a rigid formation, in a way she'd only see the Solar Auxilia move. Not surprising, according to Intelligence, Captain Rycon had been a part of the Solar Auxilia for nearly a decade before he transferred to the 31st Kalaver Regiment for unknown reasons.

As they followed the traitors, the blizzard began to let up. The wolf pack found themselves going up the mountain, rather than around it. The patrol appeared to end at an old mining complex. Tyra had heard reports of several mines being raided during the early years of the insurrection, the miners killed and the resources stripped.

The pack found a vantage point overlooking the complex. There were hundreds of them, Tyra saw, many informations; training, or returning from patrols. Dozens of vehicles arrayed in rows, mechanics working on the various machines. She even saw the stolen Baneblade, the Iron Behemoth. A pair of figures near the massive fuel caches caught her eye: a bored-looking white-swathed human with brown hair cleaning an old ballistic sniper rifle with the ease of many such cleanings, and a large white wolf that looked directly at her before yawning and laying its head on it forepaws.

"We cannot fight them all, Lord," Erwin whispered, "It'd be suicide. We should request support, perhaps-"

"No," Tyra murmured, "I have a better plan."

"What?" Erwin's tone was concerned. "You seriously cannot be thinking of assaulting them?"

Tyra shook her head. "Look again."

Erwin searched the mine entrance once more, his eyes falling on a single human in the white cloak of a winter hunter…near a large cache of promethium. He turned back to see Tyra grinning ferally. "The fire will be a great distraction, no?"

Erwin's grin was equally feral as he nodded. "Aye, the fireworks would be spectacular."

"The promethium should disorganize the entire base. Hopefully, the surrounding ammunition will catch as well. Inform the strike force. Give them our coordinates, and prepare for the assault."


	2. Chapter 2

Yagen was a man of routine. Wake up, gear up, patrol, some time at the range, eat, sleep, repeat. Part of that gearing up was the maintenance of his autogun, a comforting routine in and of itself. He sat on a stool, the weapon disassembled in front of him.

He'd joined the Bronze Men when they'd assaulted Hive Gomorrah, the city giving name to the surrounding region. Just one more miner who took the opportunity to improve his chances when the Imperium refused to pay him what was due him.

For months, his routine had varied only slightly, and he was even starting to get confident enough to bet money on what was changing around the base by the way his schedule varied. And right now, the base was settling in for the night shift. The oncoming watchmen were dragging themselves from their bunks, Enginseers were beginning their loving maintenance of the machines and vehicles of war, sergeants were conducting nightly inspections. Unlike usual, though, Yagen could see the hefty, void-hardened armored forms of the Brass Ring marching through the men.

The Brass Ring were former members of the Solar Auxilia, the elite of the elite, or so they claimed. What he did know was that the Solar Auxilia were considered as close to being a Legionnaire as a man could get, and that these Auxilia served as the Mountain King's personal guard and envoys. He still remembered getting his first sight of their awe-inspiring black-and-bronze armor in the fight for the Hive, where they were slaughtering the Imperial Army troops. Their presence here was indicative of…something. Yagen just wasn't sure what.

That's when it happened. A roar, a loud distant thundering that turned into a horrifying shriek that filled the air. He turned his head to see the night sky, and found it filled with-

"Missiles!" one of the front-line Bronze Men yelled, "Incoming!"

In the first of a series of giant flashes and earth-shaking explosions, Yagen found himself thrown violently away from the missiles' strikes, his body smacking hard against something metal, driving his breath out of him and leaving him disoriented.

"Fething Hells!" the voice of one of the Brass Rings roared over the cacophonic din, "They hit the promethium lines! Shut them down! Shut them–"

Another streak, another flash, another rumble, another ear-shattering tear, and the Brass Ring was consumed by fires hot enough to melt metal.

Disorder reigned as the freedom fighters scrambled to save themselves, save equipment, save promethium, save the vehicles, and no one was listening to the orders the officers gave, if the officers were even giving orders. War machine after vehicle after war machine began to ignite and ammunition began to detonate as the fires licked their way through the pipes and into the magazines of the resistance. Now on his feet, the ringing in his ears faded, Yagen began to turn.

And the Baneblade, pride and prize of the Bronze Men, that symbol of the Imperium's tyranny, repossessed for glorious purpose, went up in a fire to mimic the system's sun for all of a nanosecond, its stores of shot and bolt all igniting simultaneously.

The shockwave blew Yagen back, crashing into a repurposed miner's half-track, already fueled and spared the fate of the rest of the motor pool. His head pounded and his ears rang. A foul-smelling liquid splattered against his face in waves, and he sat up spluttering. Shrapnel had pierced the tank of the half-track, and promethium gushed from the opening, coating his shoulder and head and torso, and the ground where he sat.

Movement before him raised his eyes, as he made to stand, freezing him as his eyes rose to see a man standing before him, clad in winter-grey fatigues, a snow-white cloak clasped about his neck, and a long, black rifle slung over his shoulder. A golden Aquila was stamped proudly over his heart on the gunmetal chestguard he wore. His eyes shone with triumphant glee above the feral, wolf-like grin carved onto his face.

Yagen could only watch as the red light lanced out from the pistol held confidently in the hands of this apparition. He could feel the heat as the laser brushed by his head, and felt a microsecond of relief – _he missed_ – before heat consumed him as promethium-fueled flames reached, hungry for more of itself, overwhelming all it touched. His killer's triumphant yellow eyes, and the cleansing heat of the flames, was the last thing Yagen knew in this world.

=][=

Tyra Russ watched from afar, her enhanced eyesight allowing her to witness the panic unfolding as the Long Fangs performed their task, missiles and heavy bolters scattering any attempts by the rebels to organize. The time to strike was now. Her company stood ready, Thunderwolf cavalry eager to enter the fray. But not yet. First blood would go to the Grey Hunters.

Three drop pods plummeted through the skies towards the complex, like meteors containing the wrath of an angry god. Said wrath was revealed in the forms of those warriors of Fenris, called to honor and glory in battle, and in the form of a Contemptor Dreadnought, its Kheres Assault Cannon already spewing death as it stepped from its drop pod.

Tyra held aloft her sword, Winter's Edge, its tip pointed towards the rebel encampment. Belysning shifted beneath her as she roared out to her pack, "Let's give them a proper Fenrisian greeting, boys!"

"By Sword and Axe we bid them welcome!" they howled back. Her own voice lifted in howl alongside them, she charged, the rest of them not but a pace behind her.

The empty span before the Thunderwolves was covered in the span of a few heartbeats, their advance protected by the suppressive fire of heavy bolter and missile from the able ministrations of the Long Fangs. Aska was the first of Tyra's immediate force to draw blood, tearing into a squad of the rebels with all the ferocity belonging to her kind, freezing many of the men with terror, unable to act in the face of such unrestrained fury.

Belysning, though slower than her sister, made up for it in agility, leaping, weaving, dodging through fires and incoming fire, all the while somehow keeping Tyra stable enough that her aim with the bolt pistol Long Fang was no less true than if she were on foot, as a heavy bolter crew discovered. The explosive rounds detonated inside one's torso, and in the head of the other, rendering it a fine red mist that coated his now-bare shoulders and the half-mangled body of his fellow crewman. Ever, though, did Tyra search for more targets, more rebels, more mortals to send fleeing in terror. Momentum was the key to any cavalry charge. Keep moving forward, move or die.

There was no sign of any organized resistance from the Bronze Men, and she turned towards the mine itself. At first glance, they appeared to be Solar Auxilia. But the more she looked, the more obvious the differences became. Their bearing, their tactics, their equipment, none of it matched the elite human soldiers she knew. Nothing more than little boys playing at war to assuage themselves of their superiority.

"No quarter!" She yelled, her command echoing throughout the complex, "No quarter! This rebellion ends today!" Her pack's renewed howls sent chills down the spines of their enemies.

Autogun rounds pinged off of her armor as Tyra bore down on a small team of rebels, no more than four, Winter's Edge flashing in the light of the fires as she hewed one soldier's head from his neck in a single downward stroke. Belysning fought as well, her teeth and claws ripping two more of them to shreds. The last coward turned to flee, and Winter's Edge made sure that he fled where no living being could follow.

"Lord!" The voice of Vilgeir Birkirsson, a pack leader of Grey Hunters, rang out. As he ran aside Tyra, she noted his Crusader armor and chain axe were covered in the blood of rebels. "Lord! A contingent of rebels have formed up at the entrance to the mine!"

"Then why are you over here?" she shouted back, "Smash them where they stand!"

"Lord, most of the rebels have fled the compound, something about this group is wrong," the veteran Space Wolf said in defense of his actions. "My pack is prepared for the assault. Would you do us the honor of leading the charge?" he asked with a gesture towards the entrance to the mine.

"And here I worried you'd gone craven, Vilgeir," Tyra remarked teasingly, "You just want me to take the enemy lord myself, don't you?"

"I was there to see the Wolf King and the Lion brawl, lord," was the Grey Hunter's flat reply, "I'd rather not reenact it with you."

Tyra's laugh rang throughout the complex. "Father will never let the Lion live that down." A grin on her face, she nodded toward the mine. "Onwards, then! We will feast mightily once these rebels are dead!" No sooner had the words left her mouth than Erwin and the rest of her Wolf Guard rode up behind her.

"Must you always leave us behind?" Erwin groaned, knowing they'd be left in her wake once more.

Tyra's grin was wide as she replied, "Must you always be so slow?" With a howl echoed by her pack, she pressed on, eager to bring these traitors to their knees in defeat.

A visible slope led down from the center of the complex to the entrance of the mine proper. The doors of the mine had been replaced with massive double doors, they were fit for a king. A symbol was stamped proudly upon their brass surfaces in red, the tip of a triangle touching the point of a "V", a horizontal line lancing through that center point. Tyra made a note to ask her brother Balder about it when next she returned to Fenris, it was no sigil she knew.

The rebels had gathered to make their final stand upon a barricade before these doors. The Grey Hunters were pouring heavy weapons fire into it, the Contemptor adding its own contribution as it advanced alongside Tyra and her pack, and still they held. These rebels were truly the elite, in training, in discipline, and in armament. They were equipped to the man in Storm-pattern void armor, not as advanced as power armor, but still deceptively strong. One of them charged Tyra, swinging a power sword at her leg. She dropped the blade of Winter's Edge deflecting the blow out and away, the force tearing the weapon out of his hands as easily as Belysning's claws tore through his armor.

But he didn't die. As if the gaping rends in his chest were naught but scratches, he swung again at Belysning's flank with his combat knife. The wolf's thick skin, tough even under layers of fur, failed to be broken by the simple blade, and a back-handed swing of her sword separated his head from his neck, finally felling him.

"These men are made of sterner stuff, lord!" Emund commented as he passed.

"Damn what they're made of!" Tyra roared, "Kill them all!"

The next minutes were a blur of bolter and sword, of battle roars and cries of pain, but finally, much longer than it should've taken, the rebels were dead, the barricade secured. Tyra dismounted and lazily kicked one of the corpses onto its back. Removing the helm, she was met with the sight of flushed, reddened skin, as if he ran a terrible fever, with pointed nubs poking out of his forehead, as if the beginnings of horns. Glazed, sickly, yellow eyes stared up at the Wolf Lord emptily.

"Erwin," she barked, "What do you make of this?"

Her second-in-command dismounted from his wolf and knelt beside the corpse. Puzzlement and confusion crept onto his face across several moments before he finally admitted, "I'm not sure, lord. Some sort of mutant?"

Tyra shook her head slowly, deep in thought, "This was no mutant uprising, though. They were treated well here, if I recall."

Erwin grunted - in agreement or from the effort of standing, it was impossible to tell. "The very air feels wrong," he grumbled, "We should send for a rune priest."

"We're a month out, we don't have the time," Tyra replied, looking over to the Contemptor. "Ancient One, would you be so kind as to open the door for me?" she asked sardonically.

"It is customary to open the door for women, is it not?" The deep rumble of the Dreadnought echoed throughout the complex, "Or do I recall incorrectly?"

"Were you an Ultramarine before your entombment, Venerable One?" Tyra shot back, to the laughter of Grey Hunter and Wolf Guard, while the Contemptor hummed in amusement. "That would explain a few things."

Assault cannon angled to fire inside, the Contemptor slowly began to pull open one of the doors. Barely had he begun to do so when they were flung open from the inside, and a large steel drill was slammed into his chassis. Three hulking figures, Solar Auxilia Ogryns, their massive harnesses daubed a bloody red, their equally gargantuan helms painted dull bronze, tore out from the entrance, over the crippled Dreadnought and attacked the Space Wolves with a roar.

"Stand your ground!" Tyra ordered, "Slay them where they stand!"

She charged then, Aska and Belysning loping behind her, meeting one of the Ogryns as it swung its Charonite Claw as if to crush her. A step to the side, and it crashed harmlessly into the ground, and with a swing of her own, Winter's Edge bit deep into the thing's wrist. The beast roared in pain and blindly swept its other claw across its body. She was too slow to dodge this one, and it laid her out on her back.

She tasted iron and spat out a mouthful of blood into the snow. "Now _this_ is a challenge," she crowed, a feral grin on her face.

Aska rushed forward, her teeth sinking into the brute's leg. It tried to smash her as it roared in pain, but the wolf seemed to float out of its path, too quick for the lumbering thing to strike true. Belysning came at it from the opposite flank as her sister, though the Ogryn saw her and swung at the black wolf. She too was quick enough to dodge, at the expense of spoiling her attack.

Tyra sprang forward, now. The beast gave another roar as it thrust forth its claw to strike the charging Wolf Lord. Tyra dove and rolled, stabbing Winter's Edge into its upper arm, using it as leverage to climb atop the beast as it continued to roar in pain and anger. She sat astride its back as the Ogryn flailed, unable to reach her, its movement restricted by its harness.

"Fenris and Fang!" Tyra roared as she rammed her sword down into the back of the beast's head. It tottered for a moment before pitching forward, it heavy weight causing the ground to seem to shudder. Tyra stood, and with one foot planted on its head, wrenched her weapon from the wound before lifting it above her head and bellowing a victorious howl. Breathing hard, she lowered her arm to her side as she looked to see what had become of the other two creatures.

One made the mistake of charging the Grey Hunters. It did not live long. With seemingly practiced ease, the warriors split down the middle, letting the beast rampage straight through empty space. A veteran unloaded his meltagun into the thing's arm, instantly vaporizing the bicep, letting the whining drill it had for a hand fall to the bloody snow. Another fired his launcher, the krak missile piercing the Ogryns helmet, unleashing focussed fire and molten copper directly onto its brain. The thing toppled over backwards, dead before it could finish its warcry.

The final one had broken through the lines, roaring and rampaging across the complex. A pack of Blood Claws, young and bloodthirsty, sent to mop up any remaining resistance, howled with savage joy at the sight of _true_ prey. Firing their pistols and howling like wild things, they met the Ogryn with sword and axe. The red-armored beast roared a challenge of its own as it swung wildly, throwing two from their feet and ripping the arm of a third clean from his shoulder. The Blood Claws leapt at the Ogryn to avenge their packmate, chainswords and axes ripping through steel and flesh, bone and muscle, stabbing, cutting, ripping the Ogryn apart.

"Lord." Tyra turned from the visceral sight of cloth, metal and gore as Erwin approached her, an uncertain frown on his face. "Vilgeir says he has a prisoner; a man claiming to be an agent of Imperial Intelligence."

Tyra felt a frown of her own begin to form at this news. "Bring him to me."

Erwin nodded, and gestured behind him. A Space Wolf approached, his bolter trained on a human before him, clad in winter-grey fatigues with a white cloak thrown over gunmetal-colored flak armor. The Imperial Aquila was stamped proudly on its surface in gold. He looked to be in the prime of his mortal life, his twenties or thirties, maybe.

"This how you treat all your guests, Wolf Lord?" he asked wryly, a smirk touching his face as he seemed to catch Erwin's minute stiffening at the human's flippancy.

"Guests?" Tyra snorted, "We were not told the Army had sent a spy."

The agent snorted himself. "Considering how I was _'volunteered'_, I'm not surprised they..._'forgot'_ to tell you," he quipped, acid dripping from his words.

Tyra planted Winter's Edge in front of her and leaned against it ever-so-slightly. "You have a name, do you not… spy?" It wasn't a question.

The man nodded and looked Tyra right in the eyes as he answered, "My name is Einar. Army Intelligence, under Lord Commander Falken." He was brazenly confident, and absolutely unflinching as he stared into the eyes of a Primarch's Scion. Tyra rather admired this human, he had bravado; were he Astartes, he would be a fine addition to her company.

"Do you have the information that I need Einar?" She dropped any hint of condescension from her voice, speaking as one warrior to another.

"That remains to be seen." His answer was clipped, and accompanied by a gesture lazily pointed at the now-open mine. "Been seeing guys go in there day after day, and only those Brass Ring fanatics ever come back out." He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Your guess is as good as mine as to what they're doing in there, but the one time they let us plebeian little underlings in, the guy had a massive throne room; great hall and everything."

"I think I might wish to tour this hall," Tyra said smoothly, fixing her gaze on her second. Erwin nodded, and moved off to gather the men. With a tilt of her head to the agent, she told the Wolf who'd brought him, "See that he returns to Army Command. He has no need to remain."

"At once, Lord."

"That should fuck up the old fart's day, my continued breathing and all." the agent remarked jovially, "Good hunting, Wolf Lord."


	3. Chapter 3

Promethium fumes filled the air. Though the fires were dying, Tyra's heightened sense of smell allowed her to still notice that at one point, an entire vehicle depot exploded in hot white flame. Tyra took a moment to collect herself, to fully grasp what had happened.

So far the Space Wolves had fully secured the mining complex surrounding the actual mine. The rebels themselves were for the most part, poorly armed. Many only having a lasgun, if they were lucky. The vast majority had primitive auto guns, many made from scraps or mining equipment. There was little to no heavy weapons, some heavy bolters had been positioned in key choke points around the base, however they were dealt with easily. The armor was the only thing which made Tyra nervous, however they were nothing more but scrap when the battle actually started.

Now she stood before the massive, now opened, mine entrance. She could see into the dark, cavernous entrance, built into the sloop of the mountain which the plateau was apart of. Inside were ruby carpets, lavous torch holders which held no light. Tall, bronze colored columns stretched into the high ceiling. Already the entrance was occupied by a squad of Grey Hunters, who were checking for traps.

In Tyra's mind it was all too easy. The complex proper must be trapped, otherwise the defense of the 'Hall' would've been a top priority. So far the few that walked the halls reported no signs of the rebels. They did report a strange, unnerving feeling as the entered the hall. They were veterans, it was not in there nature to feel uneasy about anything. As such, Tyra took this 'uneasy feeling' quite seriously.

Erwin appeared next to her, his hair now covered in snow, the blizzard had made it's way up the mountain, and the snowfall was becoming heavier and heavier. "Lord, we have found no signs of this, 'Mountain King', he may have fled."

Tyra looked to him, then back at the dark, alluring hall. "No, he is in there." she nodding toward the hall.

"Aye, what makes you say that?" Erwin asked, arms crossed.

"He wouldn't leave. He _is_ the king. Kings are too often prideful, especially the new ones. No, he's waiting for us, down there." She pointing into the hall.

Erwin nodded, "What of Haldrinvar?" he nodding toward the contemptor.

Tyra looked over to the hull of the "Hero of The Fiery Pass", Ancient Haldrinvar. Interred after a harrowing battle against Eldar, in a volcanic chasm known as the Fiery Pass, Haldrinvar covered the escape of several squads of Grey Hunters and Blood Claws after the Eldar sprung their trap. Caught in a mountainous pass the xenos strafed the trapped space wolves. It wasn't until Haldrinvar took his heavy bolter and begin to draw the fire of the speeders, this allowed the Grey Hunters and Blood Claws to escape the killing field. Haldrinvar was cut down by concentrated fire his mangled body was recovered and interred into the metal form of the contemptor.

"The Iron Priest says he shall live to fight again, though a brutal strike, it left him only immobilized, he shall walk soon." Tyra said.

"Good, Haldrinvar was close to me, we were both Veterans of Terra." Erwin said solemnly. Even though he was an Astartes, a gene-bred warrior nigh on a hundred and fifty years old, who had seen horrors that would rend the minds of any lesser life form, he was sad; and his sorrow was visible for all to see.

"Indeed." Tyra said, "Gather the guard, order them to dismount, we're going inside now." Tyra told Erwin, "Also inform Vilgeir to gather his squad, they're joining us."

Erwin nodded, "One last thing lord, a message came for you."  
Tyra raised her brow, "Oh, a message for me, I'm delighted." Her voice showing the slightest hint of sarcasm. "I'm guessing it is from our 'friend'."

"The Governor yes," Erwin sighed. Though he was the Lord of this world, the Imperial Governor, Tithes Arnold, was impatient and an annoyance. Always asking for an update, or asking for a detachment of Space Wolves to use in a parade to show Imperial strength. He was an annoyance, one Tyra has to deal with daily, if not hourly. "He is asking for the status update, again, wondering if he can finally announce the death of the Mountain King?" Erwin stated.

Tyra groaned, "Tell him when I know, he shall know." She said hastily and precisely.

Erwin left Tyra too stare into the hall once more, the Grey Hunter pack leader stepped forward to her, "I've looked over this hall nearly a dozen times, there are no traps that I could not detect."  
"Your work is done Hagar, I want your pack guarding the entrance, we shall return when we've explored the rest of this 'hall', Tyra ordered the pack leader.

"At once," he turned to his pack, "Pack, come, we're to watch for an enemy counter attack."

The Grey Hunters made there way from the hall entrance, Tyra was then joined by her guard, dismounted, behind them, Vilgeir and his pack stood ready. "Come, we're going to be late, we've been summoned by _the king_." Tyra said, motioning the Space Wolves to follow.

Inside it seemed darker and ominous. She felt what the Grey Hunters of Hagar's pack must've felt. It was, wrong, as if something was off. Like reading something unsettling or disturbing. Tyra couldn't figure out why but she felt as if something terrible had been done, and now she now almost wanted to know. It was a macabre curiosity. She wanted, no, needed to know why this feeling was in this hall. It was like a campfire story the elders would tell the children to get them to behave. Though it was fake, there was a morbid interest in it, the urge to know if the monsters were truly real.

As they marched their way into the hall they found as if they were going down a slight incline. At first Tyra didn't notice it, until she saw stairs. It almost surprised her, had she not looked down she may've tripped. The stairs led down for another twenty meters before she reached another set of doors. These held another strange symbol. It showed a throne, atop a massive pile of skulls. The bronze of the door didn't shine however like outside, for there was no light, the Space Wolves only being able to see due to their enhanced vision.

"Must be the entrance to the throne room." She said pushing the door open. The door slid open to a six by six meter room with a lever in the middle of it all. "Well that was anticlimactic."

"It's an elevator," Erwin said, "Perhaps it leads to the throne room."

Tyra nodded, "It's the last line of defense though..." Tyra mused her hand placed on _Winter's Edges _hilt, "It could be a trap."

Erwin nodded, "It could very well be."

Tyra took a deep breath in. "I'll go first, anyone else wish to join me?" She turned, looking to the Space Wolves behind her. All simultaneously rose their hand or nodded. "Grey Hunters, stay at the elevator entrance, when it returns come and we'll form back together."

Vilgeir nodded he motioned to his pack to turn and spread out, the Grey Hunters moving in a semi circle around the entrance to the elevator. Erwin took a deep breath and pulled the lever. With a sudden clicking down the elevator begun to move. It moved downward but at a slight angle. The ride was uneventful. The elevator was steady, smooth as a ship going through the void. Finally the elevator halted, another set of double doors. Tyra marched forward, pushing the doors open, entering the new chamber.

Like the others the room was dark, the ominous feeling which much stronger. The room was nothing more than another hallway, nearly identical to the room above it. Tyra and her Wolf Guard moved into the room, checking the corners of it. She then heard something. Raising her hand the pack stopped, no one moved, Tyra drew _Winter's Edge_, the rest of the pack readied their weapons.

Tyra spotted a single figure, walking down the hall, a sword in hand, she raised _Long Fang_, "Halt!" she yelled, her strong alto voice echoing down the hall. The figure halted, standing still, the sword still in it's hands. It then proceeded to charge, as if it was merely humoring Tyra. It's sword tip meeting with the floor, sparks begun to illuminate the figure, he was in the same void hardened armor as the brass ring. He continued his advance, now sprinting.

Before Tyra could shoot the Brass Ring, eight more appeared behind him, they dragging long, claw like weapons down the hall. She could now hear them, chanting quietly, "...burn, maim, kill... burn, maim, kill..." it slowly built up as they came closer "Burn, maim, kill... Burn. Maim. Kill. BURN! MAIM! KILL!" They screamed, now charging the Wolf Guard.

Tyra didn't hesitate, she opened fire with _Long Fang_, sending bolt rounds down toward the charging maniacs. The rest of the pack followed suit, unleashing their own bolt pistols, Erwin firing his plasma pistol. Several dropped, two making it toward to the Wolf Guard, Tyra rose _Winter's Edge_, bringing it down to the sword bearer. The man didn't even try to block, he was already in motion to slash at Tyra's waist. She side stepped, bringing the sword down cutting the man's head clean off. The one with the claws slashed at Tyra, her pauldron being marked by two savage attacks. She came around pointing her sword into the man's chest. She turned down the hall, more were coming. A score of them charging down the hall. There claws, swords, and axes sparking as they dragged them across the floor. The others were dispatched in brutal fashion as well. One being cut clean in two by Erwin, the last smashed with a mighty blow Elfardr's axe.

"BURN! MAIM! KILL! BURN! MAIM! KILL!" the chanting grew louder.

"It is strange when your enemies describe what is about to happen to them." Elfradr said.

"Aye, maybe we should let them write a sonnet." Svavar purposed.

"Worry of the songs later, we slay these men." Tyra ordered.

A hail of bolter rounds now filled the hall, many ducking in between the columns, others simply counted to move forward no matter what was thrown at them. Half fell from the charge the rest met the Wolf Guard in melee. Tyra's first combaten, an axe wielding man swung, aiming for her arm. She riposted, batting the blow to the side, she then landed a blow across the man's gut, disemboweling the man. Tyra brought her blade back again, removing the man's head. Another came at her, attempting to send a powered blade into her chest. A quick parry and she had removed the man's arm which held the sword. She batted him away with the pommel of _Winter's Edge_, sending him tumbling back. Two more came for her, however Erwin brought his blade into one of their backs, sending him to the ground. The other, armed with claws, leaped forward, activating the power fields making them look as if lighting danced between the two blades. She step back, and brought _Winter's Edge _ to bare. She blocked the claws, knocking the man down to the ground. She then smashed his head in with a quick stomp to his head.

Svavar slashed the head of one of the claw wielders clean off, sending his blade into another's chest splitting it right open. Snidil brought his power sword to bear, slicing and dicing the power claw wielders, and power sword wielders alike. Eventually the madmen who charged the Wolf Guard were brought low, all dead. Tyra took a moment to reload _Long Fang_, she then heard from behind, the familiar clang of the metal doors opening behind her. The first half of the Grey Hunters of Vilgeir's pack.

"We heard the fighting lord, we thought we'd come to help." Vilgeir said, he looked around the Wolf Guard, "I'd guess I would be wrong.", He said with a slight chuckle.

"We dispatched these madmen..." Tyra paused, "They must be mad," She turned to look down the dark hall. "No sane man would attempt to cut one of us down."

"There is much more to this, I suspect we're no longer dealing with any 'normal' rebellion." Erwin mused.

"Warp cults." Tyra purposed. "Damned fools, everything fits together now."  
"Would make some sense." Erwin said in agreement.

"But they're never this organized, nor this well... funded." She kicked a Brass Ring solider over, examining his armor. "It's brand new, straight off the production lines."

"There are near by manufactorums. Perhaps they raided one of them." Elfard purposed.

"Perhaps..." Tyra went into deep thought for a moment, gazing at the brass color of the madman's armor. "We have no time for gossip. We find this 'king', I believe he's inviting us." She turned to her pack. "Erwin, Elfard, stay at my flanks, Svavar, Snidil watch our rear, they may hide among the columns." She looked past her pack, and looked to Vilgeir's. "Pack Vilgeir, form behind us, be ready to fight."

"We're always ready for a fight!" Cried out one of the Grey Hunters, his bolter held high.

"Come forth them, we've been given a 'lord's courtesy', let us not insult him." Tyra said.

The two packs of Space Wolves marched down the dark hall. The march, again, was uneventful, however they were on high alert. Tyra always holding _Long Fang_ at the ready. Waiting to open fire upon another score of madmen. However no Brass Ring appeared, in fact the hall was eerily quiet. Besides the stomping adamantium boots, and the gentle hum of power fields, no other sound was heard. Finally the packs reached a large grand set of double doors. Similar to the gate which stood at the front of mine when they entered. The same symbol was upon the door as before, inside the upside down triangle, now resided a bronze skull, with a crown upon it's head.

"I believe we've found the entrance to this, 'king's' throne room." Tyra said. "Stand ready Sons of Fenris, I expect a fight."  
There was a response of weapons being readied and whispers among the Space Wolves. Tyra pushed the doors open, light flooded into the dark hallway as Tyra opened the doors to the throne room. It was brightly lit, towering pillars holding flames illuminated the room in an orange light. It showed the finely detailed statues of what Tyra could guess to be heroes of these Bronze Men. The one on the right should a Solar Auxilia Field Marshal, in full plate, standing over what looked to be an Ork. The Marshall's helm was different, instead of it being the traditional head crest, a crown rest upon the helm. On the other side of the room, stood another figure, in armor resembling a Solar Auxilia 'Storm Veteran' with a great chain in one hand and a bolt pistol in the other.

"Enjoying my artwork." Tyra looked to the end of the Throne room to see a man, in the same Field Marshal armor as the statue on the right. He sat in an ornate brass colored throne, the headpiece holding the same strange symbol as the doors. "I must say, seeing my best moments, brings me so much joy." His vox caster clearly damaged as his voice was garbled and staticy.

"We finally meet, King of the Mountain." Tyra said to the man.

"Yes, though I'm afraid I must leave soon, so many places to be, not enough time to be everywhere at once." The Mountain King said, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

"Why leaving so soon?" Tyra said marching toward the throne. "We have much to speak of."

"I know, I know, but I assure you m'lady." He said leaning forward, "We shall meet again, or so I would hope." She could almost feel him smiling. "Besides, maybe you would, wear something, different, Princess of Fenris."At that Tyra's blood boiled, he saw that, "Oh? I hit a nerve, didn't I? Tell me, how does it feel being a lap dog of the ever so great 'Emperor of Mankind'? At that a lowly one. Confined to not even be apart of the Great Crusade."

"You're not going anywhere." Erwin said, "There is nowhere for you to run traitor." He said raising his plasma pistol.

"Oh Sons of Russ." He said almost like a father speaking to a misbehaving child, "So, impatient, so quick to pass judgment. You really think I'd count on you not finding this place?" He snapped his fingers, behind the throne two scores of Brass Ring claw bearers and those holding las rifles came out. They marched orderly, not once showing any sign of savagery. "It was only a matter of time," He stood tall, his hands crossing across his armored chest, "I knew you'd find me so I made you a treat. A good fight, fair, and balanced of course. Now if you'll excuse me I have world to conquer."

Tyra fired a volley of bolter rounds at the Mountain King, only to have them simply exploded around a shining force field. The Brass Ring broke their current orderly formations and charged in a frenzy. The Grey Hunters and Wolf Guard alike open fire on the madmen as they dashed across the hall. Tyra raised _Winter's Edge_, "Wolf Guard, are you with me?" She asked, a resounding howl filled the room, "Come then, let us cut these brigands down!"

The Wolf Guard charged forth, a hail of bolter shells flying overhead as the Grey Hunters cut down the lasgun armed Brass Ring. Tyra drew first blood, a mighty swing with _Winter's Edge_ cut three down, she then ran her blade through another bring it up through the man's head, splitting him in two. Two others approached her, slashing and clawing at her. Her armor saved her from the lighting claws as she brought a mighty blow down onto one of them. The poor man attempted the actually block the blow, as if in a moment of clarity he realized that his attack was failing. She shattered the raised claws splitting his skull in half. She brought _Winter's Edge_ to bare, slashing the other claw wielder, slicing off one of his arms. He continued to fight, never the less Tyra removed the man's head for his defiance.

Anarchy filled the room as the melee continued, the screeching of both the dying and living filled the throne room as the Wolf Guard continued to cut through the Brass Ring. Behind them, Vilgeir pack charged, combat blades and bolt pistols drawn. Vilgeir's power fist slamming into one of the unfortunate Brass Ring members, he being reducing to nothing but gore and armor. With the assistance of the Grey Hunters, it seemed as if Brass Ring's last ditch attempt had failed.

"Erwin! With me!" Tyra command slashing another Brass Ring down, "Push past this rabble we pursue the Mountain King."

"Of course lord!" Erwin said cutting his way out of the melee.

The two pushed past the melee, Tyra letting out a harrowing howl. "Mountain King! We come for you!"

Reaching the top of the steps they found yet more doors, Tyra moved quickly towards them, Erwin following behind. "Lord, it would be wise to await!"

"No, no I want the honor!" Tyra said, as she dashed for the doors.

Suddenly the doors opened themselves, smashed open by a Paragon of Metal. A Castellax Battle Automata.

"Wretched machine!" She cursed, "I'll cut you down where you stand."

The automata gave the reply of firing it's bolt cannon at the scion. Tyra dodged the shots, bring _Winter's Edge_ to bare she slashed the automata chassis. A large gash reliving the wires and servos of the automata to appear. Tyra stuck into the whole, twist her blade inside of it. The automata answered with a mighty strike from it's steel fists. Tyra was sent back, _Winter's Edge_ now stuck in it's chaises. Tyra charged attempting the to free _Winter's Edge_ from the automata. She received a saw blade to the shoulder as punishment. Piercing through the pauldron and into her arm she felt flesh rip and bone crunch. She was struck low, receiving another blow, she felt ribs snap and one of her lungs become pierced.

She back, landing at the end of the steps, coughing up blood from one her lungs. The Casatalax shuffled forward, her sword causing it much problems, it's ranged weapons appeared non functional. From behind she heard a howl, from behind, Erwin struck at the Castellax taking off one of its limbs, the one holding the saw blade. Vilgeir charged as well, landing a devastating blow on the Castalaxes leg, bringing it long. Erwin tore, and slash, so did the rest of the Wolf Guard, till the Paragon of Metal was no more.

Tyra stood, her arm in pain, though she did not show it. She took a step upward, walking slowly forward toward the rest of the Space Wolves. She felt mortified, struck low before the rest of her pack. Erwin reached her first, holding _Winter's Edge_.

"You are your father's daughter alright." Erwin said saying with a sigh, handing her sword back.

"I was a damned fool, allowing myself to be consumed with anger." Tyra said.

"You are a young wolf," Erwin said, "You're barely older than most Blood Claws, you should feel this way in battle."

"Still, I-" Tyra paused she recalled why she had charged headlong into danger, "Where is that damnable man!" She yelled, coughing more blood up.

"The Grey Hunters are tracking him now." Erwin said, "you are in no shape to continue this hunt."  
"I am fine, my third lung has already compensated for the damaged one. My arm has also stopped bleeding, and my bones will heal soon." Tyra said.

"That still takes too much time. Tyra, we will catch him, trust those under your command to do what they were trained to do." Erwin pleaded with the daughter of Russ.

She stood there in silent contemplation, she sighed, "Very well. I will return to the _Sky's Wrath_ for now." She said referencing the battle barge, "You're coming with me."

"Lord?" Erwin said confused.

"I wish to address the war council of the company. Might as well do something productive while I'm off the field." She said, a slight smile growing over her face.

Erwin nodded, "Very well, I shall accompany you."

Tyra looked to the guard, "Elfrid, you're in command, try not to get to drunk, this maybe a hall but it is not for drinking."

Elfrid let out a chuckle "Of course lord. However I doubt I'd drink in here, the spirits in the room offer no comfort."

Tyra did finally notice it, the feeling was the strongest within here, at least to her knowledge. It was as if they'd witnessed a horrible crime, to which none could recall. The feeling of when it was committed, however, remained ever present. Tyra begun to walk, staggered as she marched her way to the elevator.

"You know it is not your fault if he does-"

"It is my fault." Tyra said interrupting Erwin, "I was tasked with his captured and failed, my emotions blinded me."

"Emotions do that, but they're a reminder of who we are. You may name a wolf, but it is what it does that defines what it is." Erwin said sharing his wisdom with the young Wolf Lord.

"And charging into danger is one of mine?" Tyra asked a grin growing on her face.

"Bravery, hot headedness, proud," Erwin said a similar grin on his, however his pronounced canine teeth made it shape differently. "You're also wise, wise for a wolf your age."

"How so?" Tyra asked skeptically..

"You did not raze villages, now lay waste to the countryside like so many others would. No, you let them become fat, and lazy, over confident. You struck when they were at their weakest, their most unprepared. that is why I think you are wise." Erwin explained.

Tyra smiled, "Your words are sweet Erwin, perhaps you are a son of Logar."

Erwin laughed, "Of course, I'm a herald for certain."

After a long, uneventful walk, Tyra and Erwin finally came to the surface of the mining complex. The storms had intensified, though there was less snow in the air, the winds had picked up, howling in the distant passes. As she staggered forward, Erwin assisting her in her walk, Hagar came rushing toward his Wolf Lord.

"Lord!" He exclaimed, "Fenris and fang! What happened?"

"Had an unfortunate run in with a warmachine of the Mechianicum, we shall be paying them a visit very soon." She said, "The Mountain King is-"

Her vox activated interrupting her, Elfrid begun to speak. "Lord, we lost the trail, he escaped through a tunnel, collapsing it after passage. We cannot pursue without risking a full cave in, orders?"

"Return to the surface. Anything else?" Tyra asked vexedly.

"One thing, we found... things..." Elfrid was quite perturbed, "They seem to be doing, experiments... What ever it was, it was gruesome, we found the corpses of hundreds of mutated men, most no longer resemble man."  
"Take pictures of the corpses, afterwards, burn them." Tyra ordered.

"Of course, these... things make me sick." The vox closed, Tyra herself looked worse for wear, "Alright, now if-"

Her train of thought was interrupted again, this time by the roar of engines. A storm eagle, it's night sky color made it almost impossible to see under the canopy of the stars. "Night Lords." Erwin said, discontent filling his words. "What are they doing here?"

The Storm Eagle landed, the doors opened, and figures emerged. Leading them a Space Marine wearing armor colored like a storming night sky, he appeared to only have a bolt pistol on his person, Tyra however spotted what appeared to be holes on his vambrace. Behind him two similarly cladded Legionaries armed with a nasty looking chain glaive in one hand, in the other a bolt pistol. Then the last figure came out. Tyra was surprised to see a women step out. Tall, a head taller than any of the Legionaries, long black hair framed black eyes which looked as if they belonged to a monster. She walked in her form fitting armor with a certain grace that was both beautiful, and held a certain malice, as if darkness followed her wherever she went.

"Cousin." She hissed, "What an, expected surprise." She looked around examining the Space Wolves, the ruined mining facility, and then looked Tyra over, as if she was sizing up her foe, "I see you are, 'handling' the rebellion quite well." A thin smile started to form on her face grew across her face, but it looked alien, and full of untold malice.

"Who in frozen hells are you?" Tyra asked, standing tall despite her wounds.

She let out a slight giggle, "I am your cousin, Liealia, the Night Huntress." She said, giving a slight bow.

Tyra froze, she had not know that the Night Haunter sired any children, "So some let the Night Haunter fuck them? Or-"  
"The matter of my birth in no concern to you Tyra Russ, bastard of Leman." Liealia said, the same grin never leaving her face.

Erwin stepped forward, "Watch your tongue, you speak to a daughter of Russ."

Liealia looked down to Erwin, "I shall speak to the 'daughter of Russ' in anyway I shall like." She looked over to Tyra, "After all, she seems in no shape to defend her honor-"

Tyra struck the Night Hauntress across with a left hook, the same arm which the Casatalax had stricken begun to bleed once more. Tyra felt the pain but did not care. "You wish to speak ill of me, fine, know that I shall strike you down if you dare speak to me in such a way again, 'Night Hauntress'." Tyra said.

The Night Hauntress wiped the blood from her busted lip, and looked to Tyra, anger now occupied her express, her black eyes had a faint tint of red in them, "You get that one for free, Tyra Russ." She stepped closer to Tyra, coming face to face with the her. "Know that you strike me again, I will flay you till you scream so hard, your lungs burst." She stepped back, "I want you off our draw world, you have a week to finish operations on this world and leave the sector, if I find even a neophyte, you will only find his pelt!"

The Night Hauntress entered the idle Storm Eagle and left the Space Wolves to their thoughts. Tyra sighed, "Who knew the daughter of a madman would've been such a bastard." She paused, "A somewhat attractive one at that."


End file.
